The Pastor’s Daughter: Episode XVI

One of the reasons I watch scary movies is to experience the thrill of being terrified without the consequences. The way my apartment looks now reminded me of scary movies. However, I did not experience that vicarious thrill that comes from watching scary movies at this time. In fact, I feel enraged!

I eventually got rid of Lieutenant Ludlum and his mob of detectives around ten minutes past eleven in the night. But that was after they have dusted everything in my apartment looking for fingerprints, photographed the splintered door, poked their noses in every nook and cranny, and generally raised all kinds of hell.

I had gone down to Candace, explained the situation to her and told her to go home. Candace, being the Candace I know, wanted to stay, but I wouldn’t let her. Having her around as well as the police is too much for me at this time. I had a lot on my mind, too much information to process. She gave me a worried look and said she would call me in the morning. Then she went away in a cab.

Lieutenant Ludlum listened to my explanation about the camera. I showed him where I had put it earlier in the day. As he patiently examined the broken lock of the drawer, something told me that he may not believe what I was telling him. I said this because his face was expressionless. The way I saw it, he was only maintaining his usual polite calmness with great difficulty.

“This is a strange coincidence Harry,” he said. “You just had this camera for only a few hours, and someone breaks in and steals it. Don’t you find it odd?”

This is the typical Lieutenant Ludlum: He was more than willing to speak his mind, even if it upset the apple cart. But by then I don’t care anymore.

“What are you trying to say here?” I replied. “Look, this intruder, whoever he is, not only stole the camera, but also went off with my goddamn booze, my spare cash, my cigarettes and my clothes. Can’t you see that? I don’t call that a coincidence.”

One of Lieutenant Ludlum’s men came over and said there were no fingerprints to be found except mine. Lieutenant Ludlum gave me a thoughtful stare, shrugged his shoulders and said, “Well Harry, I shall have to report this to my chief.”

“You can report it to the President if you want,” I retorted. “Just get my clothes back.”

“The camera is a serious loss, Harry”.

“Who cares about the camera? That’s your business. You just realized now that it was important to you, and you want to blame me that it’s been stolen? Look, Lieutenant Reid gave me the camera and I signed a receipt for it. At the time he told me that none of you wanted it. So I resent the way you are looking at me now, as if I staged this robbery just to get you in trouble.”

He said getting angry about this unfortunate affair is unnecessary.

“Fair enough,” I said. “I’m no longer angry. But could you get your men out of my apartment so I can clear up and get something to eat?”

I said that because I thought it will make them to leave. But I was wrong: they spent another half-hour to satisfy themselves that there were positively no clues left by the burglar. Eventually, and with the greatest reluctance, they went away.

Lieutenant Ludlum was the last to leave.

“This is a bad thing to happen,” he said as he paused in the doorway. “It was a big mistake to give you the camera.”

“I see. My heart bleeds for you. Unfortunately, Lieutenant Reid already gave me the camera and you’ve got my receipt. So you can’t blame me for what’s happened. What has happened, has happened, and I’m not going to lose any sleep about it. You have my sympathy, okay?”

He started to say something, but then changed his mind. He simply shrugged and left my apartment. I believe I knew what was going on in his mind. If he has the chance, he will accuse me of cooking up this burglary myself so as to prevent him from laying his hands on the camera.

I am in trouble, and I knew that. I was quite sure that the thief had broken in only to get the camera, even though most of my clothes, three bottles of vodka, cigarettes and a few hundred dollars were also missing. As I cleared up the mess in my bedroom and sitting room, I did a little thinking. At the back of my mind I still had the picture of the broad-shouldered intruder I had seen creeping around the vacation house at Atlantic city. I am sure he was the guy who had broken into my apartment  and had stolen the camera.

Soon I finished tidying up my sitting room and was thinking of getting something to eat when the front-door bell rang. I went into the hallway, thinking Lieutenant Ludlum is back again with a flock of new questions. I opened the front-door and Phorbus Taylor stood outside.

“Hello Harry,” he said. “I here you have had a burglar.”

“Yes,” I replied. “Come on in.”

He looked at the broken lock on the front door, and then followed me into the sitting room.

“Did you lose a lot?”

“Well, just the usual things. But I’m insured, so I’m not worried about them.” I went to my liquor cabinet. “Want some drink?”

“A brandy will be good.” He dropped into a chair. “Reverend Waters – is he pleased the way I handled the write-up about Brittany?”

“He seemed to be. I know it was a big challenge?”

“A few reporters started to ask smart questions, but I told them they’d better talk to  Reverend Waters himself. They said they would rather kiss an ebola case. Harry, that man is one of the best loved in America.” He took the brandy I handed him. “Has he gone yet or is he staying on?”

“He went back to Trenton.” I made myself a highball. “Hold everything for a moment. I was about to prepare something to eat when you knocked. I haven’t eaten since lunch.”

“Sounds like a plan. Let’s go out. I will buy you something.”

“By this time? Isn’t it too late?”

“I know this Chinese restaurant that stays open late” he said.

“Do you have their number?”

“Sure,” he said, bring out his wallet. He handed me the restaurant’s business card. I picked up the receiver and placed an order for chicken wings with pork fried rice.

“Well, I’m all ears Harry,” Phorbus said, when I hung up. “Did you find what Brittany was doing in that place all alone? Have you confirmed how she died yet?”

I was careful what I told him. I told him that available evidence so far indicated there was a man involved, that the police have doubts  that Brittany’s death was accidental, and that Reverend Waters had told me to hang around and watch his interests. I didn’t tell him what Susan had said, nor that Brittany had been pregnant.

He sat listening, seeping his brandy.

“So you are not moving to Trenton right away?”

“Not for a while.”

“I told you that asshole would want an investigation, didn’t I? In any case, I’m glad I’m not involved.”

I said he was a lucky man.

“I’m just curious: what’s biting the police? I wondering why they aren’t satisfied?”

“Lieutenant Ludlum likes mysteries,” I replied. “He makes a big deal of anything.”

“Does Reverend Waters think it was an accident?”

“The Reverend is keeping an open mind about it.”

“How about you? Do you think it was an accident?”

“How would I know? Like the Reverend,  I’m keeping an open mind about it as well.”

“Brittany was indeed a ripe little bitch. If you ask me, I would say that her boyfriend shoved her off the window of that vacation house. What do you say?”

“Well, no comment,” I said. “However, Reverend Waters would love a set-up like that.”

“There’s bound to be a man in this, Harry. There’s no way Brittany will rent a vacation house of that size in Atlantic City if she hadn’t a man to share it with. So far, do you have any idea who it could be?”

“Not at all,” I replied. “But never mind that, Phorbus. Tell me something: Susan Waters. What’s her story?”

He looked surprised, then he smiled.

“She’s sexy, isn’t she? Want my advise? Forget any ideas you may have about her. You wouldn’t get to the first base.”

“I don’t mean it like that,” I said. “All I’m asking is this: do you know her very well? Where does she come from? Is there anything about her you can tell me?”

“Not much. She used to be both  a singer and a dancer at one of Aquiles Gomez’s  night clubs.”

I stiffened. Aquiles Gomez again!

“Is that how she and Brittany met?”

“That was possible: did they met?”

“Well, she told me she had known Brittany for some years.”

“Really? I don’t know that. I heard Reverend Waters met her at a party, took one look at her and practically fell in love with her on the spot. She was lucky a man like Reverend Waters fell for her and married her. The night club she was working at closed down when Aquiles Gomez was knocked off. I give to her: her body can make any man’s head to spin around, but she can’t sing for dimes. In any case, I was surprised that the Reverend would marry her type.”

“Me too,” I said.

A lady from the Chinese restaurant interrupted us by bringing my chicken wings with pork fried rice.

Phorbus got to his feet.

“Well, here are your food. I’ll be pushing along. When is the inquest?”

“Monday,” I replied.

“I’m sure you’ll go down?”

“I guess so.”

“You go ahead,” he said. “I can’t go. I will leave you now. Will you look in at the office tomorrow?”

“I’m not sure yet. I think you can handle that end. Officially, I’m still on vacation.”

“And I guess you are having a wonderful time with all these Brittany business,” he said, grinned and went away.

I sat down and ate my chicken wings with pork fried rice. I did some heavy thinking at the same time. So far, I could not find a list of telephone numbers or an address book among Brittany’s papers, which means I could not find a lead on her friends. If Brittany had kept such a list, then someone had taken it. The only clue I had with me at this point was Mac’s telephone number. I knew a girl who worked on Middle River telephone exchange. She had once won a local beauty contest organized by the Baltimore Sun, and I had written an op-ed piece about her. One thing had led to another, and we became lovers for a couple of months. Then we broke up, and I lost sight of her.  I decided to contact her in the morning to see I she will agree to help me to get Mac’s address. I mean, there’s no harm in trying, right?”

Apart from Mac, who else was there?

I dug down into my mind, trying to remember anything that Brittany Had said during the few days we were together. Perhaps I might remember something that would give me a lead on her other friends. At first I couldn’t remember anything that could help, and I was about to give up and go to bed when it suddenly occurred to me that she had once mentioned  Marcus Evans, who wrote a political column for East County Times and who was also my good friend.

One thing about Evans is that when he wasn’t writing his column, he was going around with women, and I mean real beautiful women. His theory is that having fun with a beautiful woman was the only true meaning of life, especially if you live in America. Knowing Evans, I was pretty sure that he and Brittany had been a lot more than just friends. Evans has his own method with women, and if I were to believe Phorbus, Brittany wasn’t the kind of girl to say no to a guy like Evans.  So naturally, I thought Evans might be an important lead in my investigation.

I looked at my watch. Even though the time was twenty minutes to midnight, it was the beginning of a for Evans. I said this because the Evans I knew never got up before eleven o’clock in the morning and never went to bed before four.

I picked up the telephone receiver and called his number. Perhaps he would still be there. And I was right: he answered immediately.

“Harry? Well, what a surprise! You will live long Harry” he said.  He prided himself on his ability to use figurative expressions. “I was about to call you, and the next thing I know you called. I’ve only just read the news about Brittany. Is it true? I mean, is Brittany really dead?”

“Yeah, unfortunately,” I said. “I want to talk to you Marcus. Can I come around?”

“Of course,” he replied. “I will wait for you.”

“I will be there in a few minutes,” I said, and hung up.

I left my apartment and ran down the staircase to where I had left Brittany’s Mercedes convertible. It was raining, as it will do suddenly and unexpectedly in Middle River, especially at this time of the year. I jumped into the Mercedes convertible,  started the engine, set the windscreen wipers in motion, and backed out of the parking space.

Evans has an apartment in Chase which is near the Bengies Drive-In Theatre. It is just about seven-minute drive from my place to his. Since there wasn’t much traffic so I accelerated. But as I did that I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a car that was parked nearby suddenly turn on its parking lights.  Moments later the car swung out into the road and came after me.

As the car passed under the glare of a street light I saw it was the Black Pontiac. The Black Pontiac again!

END OF EPISODE XVI

P.S. Episode Seventeen  will be published here next Monday.